Naked Lunch
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: Missing scene: Chloe Decker spent the night at Lucifer's, and she doesn't remember anything. One-shot
_Vignette - Post Pops (1x10)_

Lucifer parked his convertible between two patrol cars, greeted the cops, and went under the police tape without being stopped. He might have been walking with a slight bounce in his step this morning. Despite her proclaimed aversion, Detective Decker's attitude of late had substantiated his hypothesis. She liked him. Dr Linda was right, being in Los Angeles felt lonely, except when he was with Detective Decker. The seemingly infinite Brittanys' gene pool had fulfilled its intended purpose until the detective came to his place the night before, seeking his help in her time of need. For the first time, partying had seemed vain to Lucifer.

After Detective Decker unexpectedly passed out in his arms, the Devil was confronted with the novelty and the incontrovertible proof that his ways of dealing with women did not apply to the unique situation. His couch was uncomfortable, and to let her spend the night in his arms would appear inconsiderate. Therefore, he acted in a gentlemanly fashion. He picked her up, and carried her to his king-sized bed. He liked to sleep in the nude, so he assumed she would as well. Very gently, he stripped her down, committing her naked body to memory. Without volition, his fingers caressed the scar on her shoulder, moving down slowly to a small star tattooed on her hip, and toyed with her navel ring. He fluffed the pillow, rolled her onto her side, and pulled over gently the sheets up to her neck.

Feeling elated by his uncharacteristic behaviour, he retreated to the terrace for a smoke. Ten cigarettes later, still wired up, he ended up in the Jacuzzi, soaking until a fresh California breeze drove him back inside. She was snoring softly, her back turned to him. Dripping on the floor, he padded to the bar, and made it his mission to find the right wine to celebrate. He searched thoroughly, rearranged his wine cellar, reading labels that merely made sense. A friend should not have such an effect on his libido. Faced up with this new human predicament, he was none the wiser. Another question for Dr Linda. For the time being, perhaps a Brittanys' triplet would suffice to quell his current desires? It seemed trivial. In the end, he settled on a Domaine de la Romanée-Conti's pinot noir instead. He strolled up to the edge of the bed, lay down next to her and poured the wine. Then, things took an unforeseen turn.

"Can I have one?" Chloe's sultry voice startled him.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I feel much better," she slurred, inching closer to him. "I'm sorry I threw myself at you," she said, snuggling up to him. He braced himself for the challenge. She pressed her head against him, oblivious of his struggle. She held out her glass, revealing her breasts, hair spilled all over his chest, admiring the wine perfect colour.

Long story short, they spent the rest of the night cuddling, talking, and when she was not dozing off again, drinking more wine. He painstakingly enjoyed all of it. When Dr Linda had tried to explain the complexity of human emotions, it had make no sense. Perhaps he was beginning to get the hang of it.

Exhibit one, she confided in him. It was proof positive they had a bond. Exhibit two, he delivered three hundred percent friendship material. Exhibit three, well there was no exhibit three per se, since she stormed off in a huff this morning. Why she was mad was still unclear. Perhaps he came a bit strong with her snoring? Details they will sort out later, no doubt.

He ambled to the back of the lobby, greeting some additional cops as he went.

The Lord of Darkness came hurtling down the stairs, he thought, on his way to the National Credit Bank basement. It would make a great start for a gothic roman noir. Should he take writing as a hobby? Someone suggested it would be good for him to have a pet project aside his club owner slash consultant successful career. Probably Dr Linda, she was a gem.

He manoeuvred matador like around unis busy on the crime scene until he reached Detective Decker. She was hunkered down before a body lying flat on his back in a pool of blood. He spotted another one under a tarp, and stopped a feet away from her.

"What do we have here, some gruesome crime of passion, I hope," Lucifer bellowed. "Did you hear that?" he asked. He cupped his ear. "Fascinating."

"Hear what, the echo? Yeah, we're in a vault, duh! Lucifer, how did you get in here? Actually, no, don't answer that, I really don't want to know," Chloe retorted without a glance, her voice a pitch too high. Lucifer was the last person she needed around today, certainly not after her drinking spree. Not that she actually remembered anything except the graphic dreams she had about her partner the night before. Eww…

"Good morning to you again, Detective," he cheered.

"I didn't call for you Lucifer, can't you just leave me alone? FYI, there's nothing to solve, really."

"Agree to disagree," he rejoiced. "Let me guess…"

"Exactly, there's nothing to guess, this isn't an investigation. These two degenerates went gung ho on a suicide mission to retrieve the content of this 24-bolt Diebold vault," she said, hands flying, fighting a raging headache. "They were probably high on PCP or some lambda designer drug and were shot dead by security before they even got to the door."

"Reckless knaves."

"Considering the door is one foot thick steel, and not to mention on a time clock, yes, they definitely were reckless, and these," she pointed at two impressive assault rifles, "are replica firearms. It's sad really," she concluded. She stood up, took off her blue forensic gloves and finally looked up to glare at him.

"Case closed then. Fantastic!" Lucifer rejoiced.

"You think? Which part exactly, it's a total waste of time and resources. I don't know what's with Monroe, unless Dan has something to do with it."

"I see," his voice ice cold. "Despite his inelegant text, Detective Dan continues to control you?"

"Lucifer, I don't want to talk about Dan." She inhaled briefly. "And… this… whatever happened," she whispered, her hand waving between them, "it didn't, you hear me?" One of the female unis gazed at them curiously, and he beamed at her, sending her into a spiralling mess. She checked her phone. "Okay, great, and now it's going to take me like forever to get back to the station," Chloe muttered.

"Don't you have your car?" Lucifer asked, puzzled, keeping up easily with the detective rushing up the stairs.

"Precisely. Lunch hour, it means getting stuck in traffic and skipping lunch again."

"Can't you use your fancy rotating beacons?"

She stopped abruptly, one hand clenched on the railing. "You want me to flash my emergency lights to go get a burger?" she asked in disbelief.

"Not a burger obviously, it is a horrendous choice of nourishment. You would not want to compromise your perfect figure."

She felt her cheeks burn instantly but managed to turn her initial yelp into a gasp. She turned her back to him, running up the stairs again. "So that's how it's going to be now that we slept together…"

He grinned mischievously.

"Lucifer, this isn't funny!" she exploded.

His grin didn't falter. "Now that we toasted to your new-found freedom, and shared my bed?" he offered.

"It was an accident," she hissed, redness creeping up her ears. "I was wasted, I don't even remember the half of it." Which, to her dismay, was the truth. She did remember things to some extent, drinking after _the_ text, taking an Uber to Lux. She needed to talk to someone, and her mother was definitely not that someone. To talk, seriously? She went to Lucifer's to be fucked senseless.

But the rest of the night, well, it was kind of a blur, apart from more binge drinking. She woke up with the mother of all hangovers, naked in his bed. It doesn't mean anything, she reasoned, giving her partner a side glance. Lucifer wouldn't take advantage of her. She trusted him. On the other end, he seemed very pleased with himself this morning. And he made fun of her. She should have said something about that swanky robe straight out of a British period mini-series he was wearing. Lost opportunity. And the ride down to the club, trying to get dressed before the lift car stopped? God, it was even worse than prom night. She was lucky Maze wasn't around. She closed her eyes. It's just post drinking guilt, she thought. She threw her arms up. "Let's just… not, okay?"

"As you wish, mum is the word," he agreed.

They stayed silent for a good fifteen seconds. "So that's your grand plan now, you're not going to tell me?"

"Dr Linda gave me a crash course on reversed psychology during one of our sessions, but it was lost on me I'm afraid," he teased her.

"Fine, joke away. You know what Lucifer, thanks to whatever… mojo you used on my boss, I can't get you off my back…"

"I'm hurt Detective, I thought you enjoyed working with me!"

She waggled her index finger, "… but you're in therapy, I'm sure Dr Martin can help you with that. I don't know Kamasutra, hypnosis?"

"Detective! You came to me for solace last night, surely you cannot blame me for acting in kind." He genuinely looked insulted. "Clearly, you could not hold your liquor, so I shall posit this is the reason you are still confused this morning. I am merely taking care of you since you are determined to ruin your health." She spun on her heels, bulldozing to the street back to the safety of her car. "Detective, are you mad at me?"

"Yes, Lucifer. This is harassment." As much as she wanted it to be true, it sounded lame, worse, unfair. He was right, in his wicked way, he was trying to be a friend. "Harassment is a crime punished by law."

"Oh, you're right, I've been a bad Devil, I need to be punished," he leered. "We could go back to the loft and get all shades of your favourite colour. I promise I have no safe word."

"You're beyond redemption!" she said sternly not quite managing to keep a straight face.

"Thank you. Let me atone for my behaviour then, and take you to lunch."

"Lunch?"

"You do have to eat, don't you?"

Her head tilted. "Okay," she bailed with a sigh, "Nothing fancy, a meal I can afford on a cop salary, right?"

"You have yourself a deal, Detective."

True to his word, he took her to an Italian family restaurant where he seemed to know everybody on a first name basis. They sat in a corner. Before she could say anything, he placed their order without a look at the menu. As a general rule, she hated when guys ordered for her but she was too tired to fight him on that front. At the moment, he was engulfed in a fury of children unleashing hell around their table. Oddly enough, he was taking it with good grace, perfectly at ease with their idiotic requests. His antics were met with giggles. He ended up levitating a small coin for them until the owner sat their plates on the table and shooed them off.

"Bon appétit, Detective. Would care for some wine? They do have a very good Sicilian red wine."

"Oh no thanks, I will never drink again. Ever. I'm on duty anyway."

"It can easily be arranged. Lieutenant Monroe is just a ring away." She crossed her arms on her chest and glared. "So…" he mused, "about last night."

She pouted, eyes squinting. "Yes, about last night, I'm sorry Lucifer, I was in a bad place."

"And you were right to come to mine. We never broached the subject, but do you want me to punish Detective Douche? Nothing extreme, of course, a cattle prod, perhaps? Oh, some nice pruning shears," he mused.

Her head tilted. She knew Lucifer was serious. She didn't want to indulge him in his delusional fantasy but for some reason, she felt better. "It's okay, Lucifer, I can manage Dan by myself. I can't deny it was brutal. Well, I should have known better," she stated with a shrug.

They ate in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" she finally said.

"Oh my, you really don't remember," he asked bewildered. "I always forget how vulnerable you humans are. My dear, to put it mildly, you were drunk as a skunk. You barged in, ranting about Dan." His eyes fell to her mouth. "Before you passed out though, you tried to kiss me."

"Try?" She frowned. "I kissed you?"

He shook his head. "Of course not!"

"Seriously?"

"I know, it boggles the mind…"

"I… I don't understand. Lucifer, you've be trying to get in my pants since the day we met and you refuse to kiss me?"

"Yes, don't I know it," he said, almost sheepishly. "But fear not, obviously you are as attractive as ever, Detective, even more so when you are intoxicated."

"You're saying you suddenly grew a conscience?"

He shrugged. "It would appear so. This humanity situation seems to rub on me." She rolled her eyes. "It makes me wonder what's next," he marvelled.

"If we didn't kiss, how do you explain that I was in your bed, naked?"

"Oh dear, easily. I undressed you."

"You what now?"

"I cannot let you in my bed in your street clothes, this is revolting," he protested. "Besides, there was nothing I had not seen before."

"Fair point." She pushed her plate aside, clasped her hands together. "What about the elephant in the room?"

"You mean did we have sex? We did not."

"Seriously? We didn't even, I don't know, make out?"

"I am quite adamant we did not!" He was relieved he did not have to lie again. Lying to her about his wings had been bad enough.

She studied his face thoughtfully. "I believe you. Thank you Lucifer." Her fingers brushed his hand.

"My pleasure," he smiled. And this, this was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "So help me Father," he thought.


End file.
